


Can't Make Me

by kisahawklin



Series: The Three Body Problem [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Begging, Bondage, Dildos, Face-Fucking, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean try to make Sam beg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mirob (DestielOfDoom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielOfDoom/gifts), [Stephanielikes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephanielikes/gifts).



> This one goes out to Mirob again, for wondering what might make Sam beg (and thanks for that - there's some super-angsty stuff coming your way, enjoy) - and also a little to Stephanielikes, for picking up on the line "Suddenly he wants to watch Cas tie Sam up and do all kinds of nasty things to him, gently asking permission the whole way," which was one of my favorites. That doesn't come until chapter 3, but I think it'll be worth waiting for.

~~~

Dean honestly thought it would be easy to make Sam beg. The first few times they had sex, he seemed like he was starving for it, chasing after them every time they pulled away from a kiss.

The problem is that Sam's had years of practice not asking for things; of wanting things desperately but knowing he would never get them; of going out and getting things for himself.

So he'll get bossy right along with Cas – or sometimes up against Cas, and it's Cas who backs down, every time. And he'll say their names, over and over and _over_ , but he never says, "Please." He never asks. He wants, Dean thinks, but he doesn't ask. 

Giving Sam what he wants doesn't work. Dean knows what it is most of the time, and Cas is learning quickly, but if Sam gets what he wants, he's just smug about it. And Dean appreciates that, he _does_ , because he likes that Sam's enjoying himself. But Sam's never out of control. Sam rarely wants anything he can't achieve for himself, and he never wants anything so desperately he can't walk away. 

He has a feeling that Sam has never been out of control during sex, ever. Sam seems to enjoy it just fine, and Dean certainly hasn't had any complaints, but Dean ends up begging almost every time they have sex, taken apart by both Sam and Cas with an ease that's a little scary.

Cas has two settings and they're both bossy. When he's analytical, he likes watching and telling both of them what to do. They all enjoy that, and there's a nice freedom that goes with it, because they know Cas will take care of them. 

When Cas is really horny, though, he goes crazy, tackling whoever is closest and using them to get what he wants as quickly as possible. That's when he begs. 

It's like Cas's body finally catches up to his brain, realizing all the stuff he's doing is hot as hell, and then he needs to get an orgasm as quickly as possible. Eventually Dean's going to slow Cas down, bring the arousal part on slowly and deliberately and see how soon Cas begs and how long he can hold out before becoming a complete mess.

Dean's tried that trick on Sam, but Sam, apparently, can hold out forever. It's infuriating. 

They've tried withholding the thing that Sam wants, too, but Sam just clams up. Shifts his energy elsewhere and doesn't even seem to miss what he originally wanted. Dean's just going to have to figure out what Sam can't live without. As the months go on, he's starting to think there isn't anything.

He and Cas talk about it sometimes, when Sam's out of the house on one of his runs. Cas isn't as bothered by it as Dean is. Probably because Dean feels like he's failing Sam in some fundamental way that he can't describe, even though the kid seems perfectly content with their shifting relationship and erratic sex life. Dean just feels like he's missing some part of the puzzle and he hates that there might be something Sam wants that he isn't willing to ask for, or trust that Dean would give to him if it was within his power to do so.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Dean tries to make Sam beg, he has a plan.

~~~

Dean's first purposeful attempt to make Sam beg happens about two weeks after they start having sex. In those first two weeks, Dean has already passed out after sex, cried enough to make one of their pillows soggy, and begged for Sam to fuck him with his ass in the air, a rousing chorus of nothing but "please" and "Sam" and "fuck." It is simultaneously the best sex he's ever had and the most embarrassing.

Sam has never done any of those things, and Dean's pulled out every trick he knows and talked Cas into doing a bunch more. 

Cas fucks Sam a couple of times, takes him apart the same way he takes Dean apart. Dean sits back and watches, learning Cas's tricks and watching Sam's whole body sink into the mattress. He's an entirely different person when he's getting fucked, calm and a little passive. He seems to like it, though it only goes so far toward getting him to come; he still needs some other stimulation to get there.

Dean thinks that may be the key – maybe there's something about getting fucked that will be the elusive thing that makes Sam say "please." He decides tying Sam up is the first step in making Sam lose control, and he brings Cas on board to run the show so Dean can concentrate on figuring out how to shut Sam's brain off and let his body take over.

"I'm not sure Sam will like the idea of being tied up," Cas says, but Dean brushes him off. 

"Just ask him, Cas. He's plenty capable of saying no."

The truth is, there's some competitiveness going on between them. So far Dean has been up for almost everything that's been brought to the table. He's balked at edgeplay (pretty sure Cas wasn't serious) and gunplay (pretty sure Sam was testing him – but would've gone as far as Dean was willing to go). Sam'd balked at the edgeplay too and backed down on the gunplay when Dean said no, _and_ he said no to dressing up. 

He said it's because there isn't anything in his size, and he might even be right, but the fact that Dean put on a garter belt and stockings and Cas wore midnight blue lace panties and a little racerback bra means that Sam's down one in the experiment department. Sam knows Dean will never go for bondage, so it's an easy way for Sam to earn his standing back. 

Dean plans it for days. He debates how to tie Sam up – they have plenty of ties, but Sam is weirdly anal about his FBI wardrobe so that would probably annoy him. Handcuffs are expedient but uncomfortable and don't work for shit on feet, and Dean is pretty sure they're going to want to tie Sam up spread-eagled on the bed for maximum access.

They have plenty of rope and chain or various size and thicknesses, but comfort is still an issue, especially if Dean is going to tie him up well enough that he can't get out of it. He debates just tying Sam up haphazardly, trusting that Sam will go along – and Sam would, he's like that – but Dean's pretty sure it will mean something different if they actually secure him and there's no escape. 

The idea makes him uncomfortable – he would never let them do that to him. Not that he doesn't trust them, just that it brings back visceral memories of hell. He hopes that's not the case for Sam. He doesn't think so – he thinks Sam's hell was much more about psychological scarring than physical, but it's not something they've ever talked about. Cas'll ask him first; Dean is just trusting he will say no if it really is a problem.

He decides on scarves. They're easy enough to find, usually pretty long and pretty soft, and have a bit of give. He finds four long ones and sets them aside in a room he's tracked down expressly for this purpose. There's a four-poster bed, much more interesting than most of the furniture in the bunker, though the room is exactly the same as the rest of them, concrete grey and depressing. The bed is only a queen, so they should be able to tie Sam up easily to the four corners. 

The only thing left to do is wait for Sam to come looking for them.

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Stephanielikes, who wanted the scene of Dean and Cas tying Sam up and doing filthy things to him, asking permission the whole way. Whew. Thanks for that.

~~~

It's just a little bit cold in the room, so Cas is not sure standing around naked waiting for Sam to find them is a good idea – especially since Sam can get lost in a book for hours and forget what planet he's on.

"It's fine, Cas, he'll miss us sooner than later."

Cas raises an eyebrow but declines comment.

Because everything favors Dean Winchester, Sam comes clomping down the hallway less than ten minutes later, being overly-loud like he wants to give them a chance to hide whatever they're doing. It's odd, that habit, left over from a lifetime of living in his brother's pocket. It's a little frustrating, too, because if they had been doing anything lascivious, Sam would be welcome to join in, so the excess noise isn't really necessary.

When Sam rounds the corner, the look of surprise on his face is beautifully uncomplicated. As is the brief flash of lust as his eyes skim Dean first, then Castiel. "Guys?" he asks, and Dean turns to look at Cas.

Sam follows Dean's gaze, surprise turning to questioning on his expressive face. Cas crosses the room, drawn to Sam like a magnet, and says, "May we tie you up, Sam?"

He holds up the scarf he has in his hand for inspection, and Sam takes it, checks the amount of give in the fabric, notes its length. He flicks a razor sharp gaze at Dean before holding Cas's eyes again. "Okay."

Cas smiles at him, thrilled that he is willing to trust them with this. He knows Dean can't, the sense of being trapped is too great. It's not that great a loss, Cas finds. There are other ways to hold Dean down. 

"Dean," Cas says, pleased with the immediate snap to attention. "Go stand in front of your brother."

Dean crowds in, gets right up in Sam's space without two inches between them. Cas stays just a step away, allowing himself the view. "Sam," Cas asks, waiting for Sam's attention to come back to him. "May Dean remove your shirt?"

Sam smiles, a brief flicker of a thing that means he thinks he knows what Cas's plan is. Castiel will be glad to prove him wrong.

"Yeah, Cas, that's fine."

Dean's hands raise automatically, as if Sam's answer is all that Dean needs. "With your _teeth_ , Dean," Cas says, and Dean freezes. Sam does too, but in a very different way – he's trying not to laugh. It's good that he manages, too, because Dean's concentration is intense, and when he leans in to take one of the buttons on Sam's shirt in his mouth, Sam sucks in a surprised breath.

It's kind of hot, Dean's mouth working over the buttons on Sam's shirt. Cas would help, but half the game is making the Winchesters wait until they are delirious with desire. This is a decent starting place, Dean bent over while he tries to undo the last two buttons of Sam's shirt. 

"Cas," Sam whispers, and that... _That_ is the reason that it doesn't bother Castiel that Sam has not begged for anything yet. Just because he doesn't say please doesn't mean he isn't asking for things. There's more to it than that – the Winchesters are very different in their approaches to sex, and while Sam seems to take in stride, it upsets Dean unreasonably. 

Cas sighs and moves in to press on Dean's shoulder. "On your knees, Dean." 

Dean goes down relatively gracefully, looking up with big eyes at the pair of them. Cas can hear Sam's breath hitch, which is an excellent reaction to Dean on his knees. Cas reaches out to thumb the last two buttons of Sam's shirt through their buttonholes, and he slides it off Sam's shoulders easily.

He pushes Sam's t-shirt up and off over his head, Sam helping him out once it gets too far out of Cas's reach. Sam throws the t-shirt in the corner, his long torso bare and his brother kneeling in front of him, his mouth right at cock level. 

"May Dean remove your pants?"

Sam nods, swallowing as he looks down at his brother. Dean looks to Cas, having learned his lesson from the shirt.

"With your mouth, Dean."

The zipper is easy enough, and Dean chooses to do it first, which is quite possibly a mistake – Sam's erection is pressing outward against his fly, bulging the denim out around the button and making it tough to work with.

Dean keeps working at it, though, his chin pressing against Sam as he worries at the button; Sam closes his eyes and lets his head drop back, apparently unable to continue watching his brother. 

Cas lets Dean work another few moments before reaching out to unfasten the button himself. Dean looks up at him, and Cas debates making him continue with his mouth, but he does actually want to get to tying Sam up before he comes the first time. "You can use your hands," Cas instructs, and Dean has Sam's jeans down his legs in record time.

"May we remove the rest of your clothes, Sam?"

Sam gives a strangled "yes" and Dean doesn't wait for orders to strip Sam's boxers down. Cas moves in to give Sam something to lean on as Dean makes him stand on one foot and then the other as he removes Sam's socks and shoes.

Dean is still kneeling, right in front of Sam, and Cas can't tell who wants it more; Dean is staring at Sam's cock and Sam is staring at Dean's mouth, and before something happens that isn't in Cas's plan, he asks, "May we move to the bed?" 

Both men turn to look at him, and Sam nods. Cas says gently, "On your feet, Dean." Dean scrambles up, less graceful than he went down, but he's very close to Sam and he seems to have gotten the message that he isn't to touch without permission, so it's just a little awkward. 

Cas takes Sam's hand and guides him to the bed, telling Dean to follow with the scarves. 

Sam sits down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Dean and Cas, anticipation clear on his features. "Would you lie in the middle of the bed, please, Sam?"

There is some fine tension there; it seems that Sam isn't completely without reservations. He is willing to trust them, though, and he shifts over to the middle of the bed, spreading out a little. Cas can't help but appreciate the haphazard sprawl of Sam on the bed, pleased with the way he's willing to take up space.

"May Dean secure your hands?"

Sam nods, and Dean looks to Castiel, waiting for the order. "Start with his left, Dean. And appreciate them first."

Cas smiles as he watches Sam's hand twitch like it wants to meet Dean halfway. He knows better than to help. They'd both realized early on that offering any help to Dean to complete his orders lowers his satisfaction significantly, so Sam just lies still, waiting for Dean to come around the bed and take up his hand. Dean fits his face into Sam's palm, closing his eyes for a moment, and missing the fleeting look of devotion on his brother's face. Sam's fingers tighten on Dean's jaw, the smallest reciprocation. 

"May I have your other hand, Sam?"

Sam glances over at Cas, his smile huge and sincere and showing the dimples that Cas has learned to appreciate as a measure of Sam's honest feelings. He lifts his hand to Cas, palm up.

"Dean, do what I do," Cas says, placing a kiss in the middle of Sam's palm. Dean slides Sam's hand down his face to do the same. Cas smiles at Dean over Sam's hand, tipping it so Sam's palm is facing Dean. He sets his teeth on Sam's hand, gently, and Dean follows suit, his eyes shifting to Sam's face. Cas can read Sam's pleasure on Dean's face – nothing is more of a turn-on to Dean than getting Sam aroused. 

Cas slides his teeth up Sam's hand and onto his fingers, just high enough that he can stick his tongue between Sam's first two fingers, pressing down into the webbing between them.

Dean's eyes go very wide as he does exactly what Cas does, and Sam's high-pitched breathy sounds are very gratifying. It's the first time Cas has been able to test the theory that Sam knew about that place on Dean because he'd somehow discovered it on himself. Cas briefly wonders who might have taken the time to find such a hidden treasure on Sam. He's not sure if he hopes Sam discovered it himself or if some loved one took the time to explore Sam thoroughly enough to find it. 

"Dean, secure Sam's hand to the headboard."

Cas keeps up his exploration of Sam's other hand, eventually working his way up to Sam's fingertips and sucking Sam's first two fingers into his mouth.

"Cas!" Sam chokes, and Dean's head whips around to see what Cas is doing. Cas takes his eyes off Sam just long enough to see Dean's reaction, his mouth dropping open and his tongue peeking out, like he wishes he could get in on the action. 

Cas raises an eyebrow at him and Dean returns to his task, testing Sam's comfort and limited range of motion. When he's satisfied, he comes around the bed to stand by Cas, second scarf in his hand.

Cas swirls his tongue over the pads of Sam's fingers, sucking them into his mouth a little further, pleased with the sound of Sam's groan. He releases Sam's hand, placing a kiss on his knuckles before handing it over to Dean to secure. 

"May Dean tie your feet?" Cas asks, repeating the question when Sam appears not to hear. Dean's still working on Sam's second hand so he can't blame Sam for not really paying attention. 

"Uh-huh," Sam answers. He's gained back some of his clear-headedness, which makes Dean frown. Cas isn't worried. They have Sam at their mercy and nothing to do for the rest of the day.

Cas sits back on his haunches and waits for Dean to finish binding Sam's feet. He watches Sam's face closely, and he can see the apprehension there, as well as his determination to trust his brother and Cas. Dean may have been right that Sam would agree to let them tie him up, but it's not for Sam – at least, not yet. Cas hopes to change his mind about that. 

When Dean finishes his task, Cas orders him back onto the bed, on the opposite side of Sam. Sam is shivering now and Cas can't tell if it's the cold or his discomfort. "Sam," he says, waiting for Sam to open his eyes and look at him before voicing his question. "May I touch your face?"

Sam has a particular attachment to having his face touched; he likes being touched everywhere – both the Winchesters have been extremely touch-starved for years – but something about touching his face gets rid of the look of unworthiness that comes up at the strangest times.

"Yes," Sam says softly. 

It's only been a few weeks, but Cas has already developed a catalog of Sam's responses to his requests for permission. A flippant answer, or "sure," or "okay," means that Sam doesn't necessarily want something, but he's willing to indulge Cas or Dean. "Yeah" is widely used and has many interpretations, but "yes" is only used when Sam wants something very much and is both willing and able to voice his acceptance. 

In his peripheral vision, Cas can see Dean leaning in toward his brother. He understands Sam's responses just as well as Cas does, probably better, and Cas knows he wants to touch as well, but he won't, not until Cas tells him to. 

Cas smiles and rubs his fingers along Sam's cheekbone. "You are beautiful, Sam."

Sam closes his eyes. He doesn't negate Cas's observations anymore, not since Cas accidentally blew up at the brothers about their inability to accept his compliments, but he doesn't accept them easily. 

Cas cups Sam's jaw in his palm and brings his other hand up to brush the hair back from his face, to trace his thumb down Sam's nose and philtrum and over his lips. Sam's lips twitch, and his tongue darts out to greet Cas's thumb.

"May Dean kiss you?" 

Dean darts a grateful look at Cas, and leans in close, waiting for Sam's answer. There's a little smirk on Sam's lips before Dean gets his "yes," which is just enough time for Cas to get out of the way. 

"No hands," Cas gets in before Dean can start, and Dean freezes for a second. He had been about to put his hands on Sam's face, and as it always does, Cas changing the rules causes him to come to a grinding halt before he can change gears.

"Hands behind your back," Cas says, mostly for his own amusement. Dean obeys immediately and then goes back to moving in to kiss his brother, slower because he has to balance himself more carefully without use of his arms.

Dean has always been a whole-body kisser. Cas can see the concentration in his face as he leans forward enough to meet his brothers lips and, once he does, the twitches in his arms as there is an inability to use anything but his mouth on his brother. They strain toward each other, each without the leverage to deepen the kiss the way they normally would.

Dean breaks the kiss to trail his lips across Sam's jaw, mouthing at the corner and whispering something soft against it. It's just for Sam; whatever he says makes Sam smile and tilt his head to give Dean better access.

"Dean," Cas says, and Dean sighs against his brother's skin, placing one last kiss on Sam's mouth before sitting back.

Cas raises his hands, placing them an inch above Sam's ribcage and letting them hover there. He nods at Dean, and Dean does the same. 

"May we touch your skin, Sam?"

Sam arches up, trying to push himself into their hands, but Cas pulls his out of reach and Dean follows suit. 

Cas can see it in Sam's eyes, the desperation, but he still isn't willing to beg – not when Cas will give him what he wants if he just says yes.

"Yes," he hisses out, arching a little higher, still trying to meet their hands. Cas nods and Dean follows his lead as he gently sets his hands on Sam's ribs. He leaves the upper one where it is – just under Sam's nipples, just that little bit – and traces Sam's side from rib cage to mid-thigh with the other, lightly. Dean does the same, and Sam exhales loudly. Cas is using just enough pressure that it won't tickle; he checks Dean's hands to make sure he's doing the same and is satisfied he is. 

Cas brings his hand back up, inching it inward to graze just inside his hipbone, enjoying Sam's harsh breathing. They settle into a rhythm, him and Dean, and Cas brings his left hand up to circle Sam's pec, brushing his fingertips over it, and very carefully avoiding his nipple.

Sam's breathing gets even raspier, and Dean smirks, like Sam is two steps away from begging. Cas knows better – he doesn't believe they will get Sam to beg unless Sam decides to beg – but he likes to watch Dean try.

"Dean," Sam moans. Dean has a way with nipples. Sam says he was always a "breast man" and while Cas doesn't entirely understand the term, he does understand that Sam having sensitive nipples is extraordinarily pleasing for Dean.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean asks, and the blatant hope in his voice makes Cas smile. It will only serve to strengthen Sam's resolve, and if Dean was thinking clearly, he'd know that. There's no one that understands Sam's stubbornness more than Dean.

Sam shakes his head and Dean shrugs, going back to sliding his hands rhythmically over Sam's skin, his left sliding over Sam's hip with fingers outstretched, mere inches from Sam's cock. His right hand is slowly making tighter and tighter circles around Sam's nipple. 

Dean leans forward, licking his lips and bringing his mouth dangerously close to Sam's chest. "Dean," Cas warns, and Dean holds, a couple of inches between his mouth and Sam's nipple.

"Cas," Sam says weakly, and Castiel smiles. There is a difference in the way the Winchesters say his name that will always belong to them, an affection that goes with the nickname that no one else ever quite captures. 

"Sam," Cas answers. He's going to ask the question, but he does want to give Sam the chance to ask if he wants to.

There's the briefest expression of frustration before Sam's face smooths out and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. The last thing Cas wants is for Sam to purposely gain control of himself, so he doesn't let Sam finish his inhale before he asks, "May Dean suck on your nipples?"

Sam's eyes fly open and he lifts his chest off the bed, straining up toward Dean's mouth. Dean's smirking again, his eyes glued to Sam's face. "Yes," Sam breathes out, twisting his chest up toward Dean. 

As soon as the word is out of Sam's mouth, Dean is leaning down, and Cas has to growl "Dean" to get him to stop. He does and Sam whines, twisting his torso to try to get Dean's mouth on him.

Dean seems to get the game, breathing hot air on Sam's chest and licking his lips just out of reach. Sam whines, a needy little, "Dean," that Cas can imagine has often gone with Sam's attempts to wheedle something out of his brother.

He tries Dean's name a couple more times before he remembers himself and shifts his gaze to Castiel. "Cas," he says desperately, "Cas, come on."

Cas smiles indulgently, holding Sam's desperate eyes. He knows Sam will shift away from it eventually – once he thinks he's not going to get what he wants, his attention moves to something else. Dean's hands still running over his skin, probably. Cas waits to the last second, the very moment he sees Sam start to shut down, before saying, "Now, Dean." 

The choked-off noise Sam makes when Dean lowers his mouth to Sam's nipple is exactly what Cas was hoping for. He knows Sam, and Sam is all about self-control. It is nearly impossible for him to let go, and while that is bothersome for Dean, Cas doesn't usually mind. That doesn't mean he's averse to finding ways to drive Sam to his wits' end.

"May I touch your cock, Sam?"

Sam closes his eyes and breathes out noisily through his nose. "Fuck," he says, and when Dean takes that moment to squeeze Sam's other nipple with his fingers, he repeats it, higher in pitch and needier. "Fuck, _Dean_!" 

He keeps his eyes closed, taking a few hurried breaths, and says, "Yes, Cas." His voice only trembles a little.

"With my mouth?" Cas asks. He can't help a smug grin, but Sam's eyes won't be opening for a little while, so it doesn't really matter. Dean looks up from where he's laving his tongue over Sam's nipple and mirrors his grin.

"Fuck," Sam says, tipping his head back. "Fuck. Yes, Cas, _yes_."

Sam squirms. It's one of the most delightful things about him – he is always trying to either get to or get away from something they're doing to him. With his movement restricted like this, he can't do too much, though he's becoming an expert at twisting his chest and hips around to get Cas or Dean's hands on him. His hips are hitching upward, waiting for Cas's suggested blowjob.

Cas leans over, bringing his mouth close to Sam's cock, sending hot breath over the head. Sam lifts his hips some more, but Cas is ready for that, and matches the distance. "Cas," Sam whines, and it strikes Cas that if it had been Dean, there would be a "please" immediately following his name. He doesn't know if it's a conscious choice of Sam's, but he always uses their names and never actually articulates what he wants, not with a "please" nor even asking outright, though it's fairly obvious he wants something in the way he's twisting his chest in toward Dean's mouth and his hips up towards Cas's. 

"May I touch your balls, Sam?" The question makes Sam's cock twitch upwards. Cas grins. The plan is working almost exactly as Dean expected; Cas had not believed it would be so easy. 

"With your mouth?" Sam grits out, and Cas turns his attention from Sam's cock to his face. He's come back to himself a little, his eyes flickering back and forth from Dean to Cas, but sharp and not as lust-addled as he seemed a few moments ago.

"And my hands," Cas says, turning back to Sam's cock and sucking the head into his mouth before he can answer.

"Fuck!"

Sam loves the word fuck, but only when they are actually in the act of sexual intercourse. Dean uses it as an expletive all the time, but Sam rarely does – except in bed when he becomes overwhelmed. Cas could write volumes on the Winchesters and their particular quirks of language.

Cas can hear Sam's harsh breathing, through his teeth now, instead of his nose. It takes four breaths for Sam to be able to say, "Yes, Cas," and when he does, it's too breathy to sound cocky, 

Cas smiles. Time to make this really interesting.

~~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still for Stephanielikes. <3

~~~

Dean has a hard time paying attention when he has Sam's nipple in his mouth. He knows exactly how to make Sam squirm, and there is nothing better than the way Sam pushes his chest up into Dean's face.

At least, until Cas starts rapid-fire questions, short and direct, waiting just long enough for Sam to voice his agreement before he goes for the next thing. 

"May I taste your skin, Sam?" 

"Even on your perineum?"

"Even your anus?"

"Even inside?"

Dean snaps his head around to stare at that point, watching Cas put his tongue inside his little brother with a little bit of awe. Sam's whining just a little, a keening noise between breaths, but his harsh panting backs off a little now that Dean's let up on his nipple for a while.

Without Dean's attention to his nipples, Sam's whole body gets into to trying to fuck itself on Cas's tongue – his back arching, his legs straining to part just a little more, his hips tilting up to give Cas easier access. Sam's moaning, alternating between "fuck" and "Cas" and occasionally "fuck, Cas."

Dean skims his hands over Sam's skin, trying to calm his skittishness just a little. They've got a ways to go, and he doesn't want Sam to peak too early.

"May Dean straddle you?" Cas asks, _finally_ , and Dean's muscles tense, coiled so he can spring off the bed and climb on top of his brother as soon as permission comes.

"Yes," Sam says, his voice soft because his head is tipped back so far, he's talking to the headboard. 

Dean looks at Cas and waits for his terse nod, leaping as soon as he gets it, throwing a leg over his brother right where he is, even though it's high on Sam's chest. It's okay, Cas will need to get a condom on Sam anyway, so might as well give him space to work.

"I want to fuck you with a dildo, Sam," Cas says, low and sexy. He's only just figured out that his voice is a big turn on for them both, and he doesn't use it often, but when he does, it's pretty spectacular. "May I do that?"

"Fuck," they swear together, Dean's voice sharp and Sam's not much more than an exhale.

Sam takes a shuddering breath – his chest hitching underneath Dean. "Yes."

"And what dildo do you want, Sam?"

They've only got three, bought on one of their trips through a stretch of highway somewhere in the Midwest populated with nothing but adult bookstores and cheese shops. They'd each picked one, and Cas's tested all three on Dean, but Sam hasn't had any of them in him yet. 

"Glass."

Figures. Cas had chosen that one, and Sam had stared at it for a long time in the shop, taking it out in the car and examining it intensely in a way that made the rest of the trip home uncomfortable. Dean had been fucked with it on Baby's hood as soon as Cas shut the door to the garage. 

"Of course, Sam." 

Everything Cas needs is set up just out of sight under the bed, and Dean hears the scrape of the tray as Cas brings it out. "Dean," he says casually. Dean turns around and watches Cas pick up the glass dildo, turning it over in his hands. "Move forward."

Dean sometimes short circuits during sex; he's not sure if his brain is just too preoccupied to work properly or if Cas purposely fucks with his expectations – probably both, come to think of it – but this is one of those times that Cas might as well be speaking in Latin because it makes no sense to Dean. 

"Forward," Cas says, tilting his head toward the headboard. Dean's still blanking though, so Cas says, "Up on your knees, Winchester," and Dean lifts his ass off Sam in a split second. 

"Move yourself toward the headboard, Dean, until your knees are in Sam's armpits."

A ripple of cold moves down Dean's body, a feeling he's never associated with sex before. But, it's become near-automatic, obeying Cas's orders, so he shuffles forward on his knees, awkwardly, as his legs widen to accommodate Sam's upper rib cage. His balls scrape Sam's sternum, and Dean slows as he realizes that if he fits his knees into Sam's armpits, his balls will be resting on Sam's chin. 

Sam's eyes are wide open and he's watching Dean move closer, glancing down at his cock once in a while, but mostly holding Dean's eyes. 

"I'm going to penetrate you now, Sam," Cas informs them, adding, "and I'm going to take your balls in my mouth."

Cas is always good about letting Sam know what he's doing when Sam can't see him, and Dean hasn't really thought about it before, but it seems to be an extension of the asking permission thing that Dean has never really wrapped his head around. He asks for the big things, or if he reads something in Sammy's mood or posture, but mostly he just knows if Sam wants something or not, so he goes with his gut. 

He'd asked Sam once, if he should be learning to ask all the time, and Sam had smiled at Cas's back where he'd been doing dishes on the other side of the kitchen, and said, "Only if you're planning to stuff another angel in me."

It'd stung, and for a little while, Dean had been ultra-careful with Sam, telegraphing his intent and sometimes asking outright, until Sam had backed him up against a wall and growled, "You already have permission for anything, Dean, stop treating me like I'm going to break." 

As Dean moves up Sam's body, though, it feels like _he's_ the one that's going to break. Sam's given him blowjobs before, but this is different, this is Dean pushing his way in, and it gives him enough pause to stop before he actually puts his junk on his brother's face. 

Sam had closed his eyes when Cas penetrated him, but he opens them again to stare up at Dean, curious.

"Dean," Cas says, his voice questioning. Dean hunches his shoulders. He hates not following Cas's orders, it makes him really uncomfortable.

"Sam." Cas must do something with the dildo because Sam's eyes go to half-mast. "May Dean feed you his cock?"

Sam's eyes snap wide open, flicking up immediately to meet Dean's. "Yes," he says, holding Dean's eyes for a full second before settling back on his cock. 

It doesn't make Dean feel any better, weirdly, and there's something here that's tearing at him, something he can't quite put a finger on, but he's dealt with fear a couple of times during sex, and it's always turned out great, so he's willing to trust Cas.

He moves forward the last couple of inches, snugging his knees in Sam's armpits, putting one hand on the wall to steady himself as Sam opens his mouth, his tongue reaching for Dean's balls. 

It's not quite long enough, though, which Dean is immensely grateful for as he tilts his hips back, pressing his dick down with his thumb. He holds just outside Sam's reach for a long moment, letting Sam strain upward to get his mouth on Dean.

"Dean," Sam says, and Dean presses down just a little harder until the tip of his cock is resting on his little brother's lower lip. 

Sam swirls his tongue on the head, neck muscles straining as he tries to get Dean in his mouth. Something in Dean breaks and he can feel tears trickle down the sides of his face. 

"Dean," Sam says again, soft and not sexy at all, just the broken voice that Dean's heard way too often, the one that tells him Sam doesn't think he's good enough, deserving enough, and Dean gives in, pressing down into Sam's mouth. He blinks the tears out of his eyes but they don't stop coming, worse as he presses himself further in, sliding along the roof of Sam's mouth, slick and sweet. 

"Good, Dean," Cas says, though Dean still doesn't feel good, he feels torn, his body doing exactly what it wants, pushing into and out of Sam's mouth, and something in his mind screeching at him, a sounds that doesn't have words to go with it but twists him up inside.

The unthinking part drives him forward and Dean gets lost in the feel of his brother's mouth, concentrating on Sam's face and how he is obviously blissed out. 

"Sam, can your brother come down your throat?"

Dean groans, gritting his teeth not to come at the suggestion, and wonders if he's supposed to pull out to let Sam answer. Sam holds his eyes, though, giving a slow, deliberate nod, pursing his lips around Dean's cock tightly.

"He says yes," Dean tells Cas, dragging his hips back so he can slide into Sam's mouth again. 

"Hold," Cas says, and whatever he does makes Sam's eyes roll back in his head. "Sam, do you want to come with your brother's cock in your mouth?"

Sam's face slackens and his eyes close, and he nods, a rocking motion that pushes Dean right up to the edge. "Yes, Cas," Dean snaps, hoping he gets permission soon because he's going to shoot down Sam's throat in a minute, and he'd really like to do it on Cas's command.

"Sam, why don't you fuck yourself back onto the dildo while Dean fucks your mouth? Maybe we can get you to come at the same time."

Sam gives a heave, lifting his chest and Dean with it, changing the angle enough that Dean pulls back so he doesn't choke Sam. He can feel Sam's hips shifting, a gentle rodeo that pushes Dean into Sam's mouth just a little more. 

Dean is just about to completely lose it when Cas says, "Now," and he closes his eyes and comes, shaking as Sam curls his tongue around his dick, only vaguely aware of Sam's come splattering hot on his back.

Dean comes back to himself leaning against the wall, Sam chuckling good-naturedly. When Dean takes a look down, his dick is next to Sam's ear, spent and drooling spit into Sam's hair.

"Fuck," Dean says, sniffing. He shoves back from the wall, climbing off Sam and curling around him. There's something raw inside him, something that's not helped by knowledge that Sam's hair is wet from the tears Dean couldn't control.

Even without control of his arms, Sam twists into Dean in a way that makes Dean feel like he's being held and he lets it go, falling asleep with his cheek on his brother's chest.

~~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And most of it from here on out is for Mirob, because when I figured out why Sam might beg, it turned into an angstfest. So enjoy.

~~~

Sam can't help smiling. They all get to be the center of attention once in a while; Cas when they need to pull him out of his shell a little, Dean… well, whenever. He's so responsive that it's easy just to get in a feedback loop of "what if" with him as they try something new. When Sam's the focus, it's because Dean's desperately trying to get him to beg. 

Sam hadn't realized he didn't beg, before. It certainly hadn't mattered to him. It's a point of pride for Dean, though, and now Sam's holding out just because he can. He could probably hold out forever; he doesn't lose it the way Dean does, unconsciously responding to every stimuli. When he's really turned on, words desert him altogether and then there's nothing but moans.

He's not sure Dean's figured that out yet; or if he has, he thinks there's some way he can get around it. Sam's pretty sure there's not – if he doesn't get what he wants, he just shifts his attention elsewhere. There's nothing he wants so badly that he has to ask for it because there's so much else going on, he can just want something else instead, and likely get it.

It's brotherly assholishness, he knows. It might've been easy to force himself to do it one of the first times they tied him up, give in just to ease Dean's mind. But it'd become a game, and Sam plays to win, so he won't give Dean the satisfaction. Now they've gotten too far in, though, and if Sam fakes it, Dean'll know it's because he's sick of Dean's competitiveness. It's the reason Sam always gives in; Dean simply has a higher tolerance for annoyance than he does.

Sam's not quite there yet, though. He doesn't mind being tied up – once he'd talked himself through it the first time, a running mantra of "you can trust Dean and Cas" to take his mind off the fact that he was bound to the bed, spread-eagled and at their mercy. 

He's been tied up a lot in his life. Sometimes by monsters, sometimes by family. Those times were the toughest, and they're what comes to mind when Dean gently secures his arms and legs – the polar opposite of the way he'd put Sam in restraints when he was detoxing from demon blood. Dean'd bruised him then, efficient and demanding. "This is for the best, Sam."

He wonders if Dean has any sense of déjà vu about that when he ties Sam to the bed, if he feels guilty. Probably not, or maybe the first time, a little. Now this is about making Sam beg, and Dean is single-minded about things when he gets like this, so he probably doesn't even think about it anymore. He's certainly got it down to a science. Once Cas gives the order for Dean to tie him up, it's less that three minutes before he's spread out on the bed and unable to move his arms or legs more than an inch or two. His body is strung tight with anticipation. Until they touch him the first time, there's a still an irrational fear that they will hurt him. 

The scenario has evolved over the couple dozen times they've tried it. They added a blindfold on the third attempt, which probably was not to their advantage as it allows Sam to really focus on the sensations they create in his body, which means his brain is otherwise occupied and probably not likely to accidentally beg for something.

Cas asked for blanket permission on the fourth round so he didn't have to ask for every little thing. Probably because there was a moment when Sam couldn't tell who was touching him where, and it was a huge turn-on. It didn't last long – Dean and Cas are very different in how they touch him, how they move on the bed, how much they weigh, the shape of their bodies… it's normally easy to tell them apart. It had simply been a single moment where there was only one hand on his body, someone resting their hand on his thigh, and he'd asked "Cas?" when it had been Dean.

It's been twenty-some times now, and Cas and Dean have gotten very good at mimicking each other, so he can almost never be sure who is where. He hadn't realized why that made him breathless until today, though.

Today, someone is prepping him to get fucked, using a small dildo because Sam can tell the difference in the way their fingers feel inside of him. And the thing that sends chills down his spine is that it might be Dean. Dean almost never touches him that way, doesn't prep him often and has never fucked him, and when Sam's feeling melancholy or unsure of himself, he thinks it's because Dean never really wanted this – never really wanted _him_. He goes with it, and has trained himself to accept Sam, but he doesn't want Sam. Not the way Sam desperately wants Dean.

And maybe it's just that Sam is pretty fucked up. He knows it, always has. He never looked at Dean that way until Cas forced their hand, but once he had, he couldn't _not_ look. Every little thing about Dean suddenly became twice as painful because it isn't just the brother he's stuck with, it's the lover he chooses to be with. He wants Dean more than he's wanted anything in his entire life, and the sex nearly destroys him sometimes. 

Whoever's down there upgrades to a bigger dildo, and some part of Sam hopes against hope that it's because Dean's going to fuck him today. On his good days, he can rationalize it. It's only been a few months, and Dean pretty desperately likes to be on the receiving end of cock, so he doesn't even fuck Cas that often. 

He's moaning already, the idea that Dean might fuck him setting him right on edge, and there's a hurriedness to the way he's getting prepped now. The other person – Cas, his mind tells him, please let it be Cas – is stroking his skin, long, firm strokes down his entire side, rib cage to thigh. As Sam strains up into the touch and down onto the dildo in his ass, both of them up their game. A new, even _bigger_ dildo comes out, and the person next to him on the bed brings his hands up to Sam's nipples, just rubbing them between two fingers, constant stimulation that's got Sam hard and leaking.

The person that's prepping him reaches out a hand and circles Sam's cock. It's surprising and a "huh" is jolted out of him. Things move quickly after that – someone puts a condom on him and lubes him up, and he can tell the other person is doing the same to themselves, so when the pair of them come back to him, the person who's going to ride him reaching out for his nipples again, he's dying of anticipation. 

He gets entered first. He can't tell who it is, and his heart is in his throat that it's Dean, and for a fleeting moment he wishes he wasn't wearing the blindfold so he could see Dean's face. 

Then there's a second of shuffling on the bed, and someone climbs on top of him.

Sam can't help his automatic reaction. It's Dean. He knows exactly how Dean moves, how much he weighs, what he feels like when he climbs on. Dean is riding him and Cas is fucking him, and for just a second, he can't help the disappointment, the feeling that Dean will never want him, not really, not like that.

It's only a second, though, because if there is something Dean wants from Sam, it's to be fucked until he's incoherent, and there's nothing Sam can't appreciate about that.

~~~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean noticed. Of course he did.

~~~

A fleeting look comes over Sam's face. It's the self-loathing that Dean thought he'd gotten rid of. It's only there for a second and immediately morphs into something else as Sam shifts underneath him, moving his hips to make the most of the rhythm Cas is setting up, fucking into Dean with a ferocity that takes Dean apart. 

It's only moments after that – they all come one right after the next, and Dean slumps forward on Sam's chest, perfectly comfortable resting here while Cas starts cleaning them up. They do this while Sam is still tied up – it's just as hard for him to take tenderness as it is to admit what he wants.

"What was that?" Dean asks, head down on Sam's chest. "I saw that – you were upset about something."

"No I wasn't," Sam complains, which is a dead giveaway that he absolutely was. 

"Sammy," Dean says, gripping Sam's shoulders as he sits up. "I saw it. You wanted something you didn't get. That was kind of the point of this whole exercise, dumbass."

Sam shakes his head and turns it to the side. He's still wearing his blindfold, so Dean can't read his eyes, but it's easy enough to understand that Sam is keeping something from them. He can't imagine what; he thought they'd gotten past the secrets thing – and about sex! There's just no reason not to ask for whatever the hell it is he wants.

"Sam," he says, forcing himself to be calm and rational, despite feeling the exact opposite. "You know this isn't about getting you to beg, right?"

Sam snorts.

"Well, fine. It is. But it's about figuring out what you want – since you won't come out and tell us."

Sam's set his jaw in the way that means he's not going to say anything, and Dean climbs off him, disgusted. "Cas, back me up here."

Cas moves in to clean Sam's dick and balls, handing another damp towel to Dean so he can clean himself. "Dean is correct," Cas says. "We just want to give you what you want."

Sam shrugs his shoulders. "You already do."

Dean can feel the anger boiling up. It's not with Sam, exactly, but with the circumstances that have taught Sam never to admit what he really wants, that he has to make do, that people knowing what he wants makes him vulnerable. 

"Not everything," Dean says. "I saw it on your face. Disappointment. So there was something you wanted that you didn't get. What was it, Sam?"

Sam is being mulishly stubborn. Dean knows Sam can outwait him like this; he's been able to since they were kids. Dean can get Sam to cave about everything else in their lives, but he can't get Sam to give up his secrets. He lives with it, mostly, because Sam eventually feels guilty enough that he cops to whatever it is, but with stuff like this, stuff Sam wants but feels he can't have… Dean never finds out. He wonders how many times Sam has silently given up on something he wanted. 

"Fine," Dean says, unreasonably pissed off and unable to control his temper. "Fine! Fuck you. If you think we wouldn't give you anything you asked for, then fuck you. Live without it. I'm done asking."

~~~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas's turn.

~~~

Castiel closes his eyes. Dean storms out, slamming the door hard behind him, a grand exit for the person who can't see it. Sam pulls on the scarves tying him down; Castiel knows he doesn't really enjoy the bondage, but that he trusts them and is willing to let them play. There are always a couple of moments, before they start and after they finish, that Sam's muscles get taut and he can't hide the tension about being bound.

Cas would normally untie Sam at this point, but he thinks perhaps he can succeed where Dean has failed. He sits down next to Sam on the bed. "Why won't you tell us what you want?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam says, and Cas rolls his eyes, happy that at least Sam can't see it, thanks to the blindfold. Self-sacrificing Winchesters, they're the bane of his existence.

"It matters," Cas says. "It matters that you desire something and won't tell us. Your brother just wants to be able to give you what you want."

Sam's face screws up in that complicated way that Cas associates with his feelings of unworthiness. Cas shifts to sit on top of Sam, bracketing Sam's ribcage with his knees, bowing his back to bring their faces together for a kiss. "Sam, what is it you want?"

"He doesn't want to. I won't make him."

Cas can think of only three things Dean has refused or not wanted to do; he's enthusiastic about nearly every possible variation of sex that exists, and it's only the extras that bother him, things that are too close to his line of work. Getting tied up, guns, knives… and Cas had watched carefully as those things were mentioned, to make sure if one of the brothers did want that, he could do something about it while the other wasn't around. Sam had been trying to provoke Dean with gunplay, happy to back down as soon as Dean did, and they'd shared identical looks of horror when Cas had suggested knives. 

"How do you know that?" Castiel asks. "Unless you were serious about gunplay, he hasn't refused anything you've asked."

"I just know," Sam says, turning his head away, as if he could actually see Cas and couldn't meet his eyes. "I know my brother."

Cas rolls his eyes again. Damn Winchesters.

"Then tell me," Cas says. "Let me help you get what you want."

"I don't want it if Dean doesn't," Sam says, a half choked-off sound in the back of his throat. He's close to breaking; it's harder with Sam than Dean. Dean wants to crack, will blurt out his secrets with the slightest amount of pressure in the right place. Sam is much more used to keeping things in, especially when they relate to his own feelings and desires. It takes a deft hand to crack his defenses.

"So maybe… we don't tell Dean," Cas says, bringing his voice down to a murmur. "Maybe it's our secret."

Sam swallows hard. Trying not to cry, Cas knows. He's not a crier – not like Dean. When Sam cries, it is always something old and painful and his own failings are always mixed up in it. "You can tell me," Cas says, knowing he really means _you can trust me_ and knowing Sam hears it, plain as day.

"He doesn't want me," Sam chokes out, and Cas holds himself very still to avoid giving away his surprise at that statement. Castiel isn't given to insecurity, but there are times when Dean looks at his brother with such love and adoration that Cas is certain there is no room in his heart for anyone else. 

"I don't think that's true," Cas says carefully. "Sam, he loves you more than anything."

"I know," Sam says. "And he needs me." Cas's heart breaks to hear the way Sam's voice goes flat, like this is an argument he's had over and over with himself, no possible way to get out of the cycle of wrong thinking. "But he doesn't want me."

That is so patently untrue, Cas can't help interrupting. "Have you seen his face when you enter him?" Cas asks, not stopping for Sam's answer to the rhetorical question. "Or the reverent way he closes his eyes when he has you in his mouth?" 

"But –"

"Shh," Cas commands. "Dean doesn't fake these things, Sam. He wants you."

Tears are slipping down Sam's cheeks now, and Cas regrets his outburst. Sam was getting at something and Cas has shut him down. He sighs. "I'm sorry."

Sam swallows and the tears stop, his face becoming calm. "Nothing to be sorry for, Cas."

 _Damn it._ Castiel has ruined the moment with his impatience. His desire to make Sam understand how much he is cherished has inadvertently had the opposite effect. 

"No, there is much to be sorry for, Sam, not least of which is the very low esteem you hold yourself in. But I am sorry that I interrupted, and that I invalidated your feelings with my outburst. Please tell me why you feel Dean doesn't want you."

Sam gives a slight shake of the head. "Doesn’t matter."

Cas takes a long breath in. He wants to order Sam to tell him, a trick that would work with Dean – not just because he likes to be ordered around but because the surprise would jolt it out of him. Sam lives to disobey orders, though, and to order him would only make him more obstinate. Cas has to approach this from a different angle. 

He leans in to press his face into Sam's neck, keeping his voice as soft as he can and still be guaranteed Sam will hear him. "It matters to me, Sam." He feels Sam huff out a little breath through his nose. Disagreement. There was probably a raised eyebrow. "You matter to me," Cas says, "and it makes me feel like a failure to not be able to give you what you want."

"Cas," Sam whines, and Cas can't help smiling. 

"My entire life revolves around you and your brother," Cas says, "and if I cannot give you what you want, then what use am I?"

It's a trick, and both Cas and Sam know it. 

"I know what you're doing," Sam says. 

"I would have been disappointed if you didn't," Cas answers. He leans back, reaching out to remove Sam's blindfold. It might have helped before, but Cas is stuck with honesty now, and it's easier when he can hold Sam's eyes. 

"Please tell me, Sam. If nothing else, a secret is a burden lightened by sharing it."

Sam meets Cas's gaze, his forehead wrinkled up, and his eyes wet again. "I don't want him to do anything he doesn't want to."

"He won't, Sam," Cas reassures him. "We can work it out another way if it is truly something Dean doesn't want."

Sam's face doesn't change, the doubt still prominent over a host of other emotions.

"I promise," Cas says. 

Sam meets his eyes and takes a deep breath, everything melting off his face except determination. "When I fuck Dean," Sam says, lowering his eyes – embarrassment, probably – "I have never wanted anyone so much in my entire life."

Castiel nods. He feels much the same way, about both Winchesters. 

"It's uncontrollable. Not just how much I love him, or need him, but in that moment, I want to fuck him until he comes with my name on his lips. It's scary, how much I want him."

"Understandable," Cas says. He thinks perhaps there is a darkness to Sam's desire, and that is what Sam is so afraid of. Cas doesn't have the desire to possess Dean, or Sam for that matter, but it is very much part of how their lives have gone. One of the reasons they have survived is because they own each other and nothing else can posses one of them for long, not when the brother is there to reclaim what's his.

Sam stays silent for a long while, his breathing shallow. Castiel wants to ask questions, find out if Sam's appetites scare him, or if this is something else. He must remain silent, though. He knows Sam will eventually get there – it just takes a long time for the words to scrape their way up his throat.

"Dean…"

Cas gasps. _Oh no._ He knows what Sam's desire is, and he can't quite believe it hasn't happened naturally in the last few months. How is it possible that Dean has never fucked Sam? Not once? He goes over every sexual encounter in his mind, just to be sure, though the look on Sam's face tells him the truth loud and clear. He wants to interrupt again, reassure Sam that it's not true, that it has nothing to do with how much Dean wants him, but he can't. He must not prevent Sam from voicing his insecurities.

Sam sighs. "He doesn't want to."

Cas wrestles with his response. He doesn't want to invalidate Sam's feelings, but he doesn't believe it's something that's happened on purpose. He knows Dean has watched him prepare and fuck Sam with interest.

"I am not certain that's the case, Sam." Cas waits for Sam to meet his eyes before continuing. It takes a moment, but Sam reluctantly looks up at him. "I think," he chuckles, because he really does believe this, "I think what Dean wants from you is to be penetrated. Your desires are simply compatible in this way."

Sam's lips purse. "It's not the same," Sam says. "You fuck me. I like it. Dean's never wanted to try? Is it because –" 

Cas cannot allow Sam to voice his next thought, so he covers Sam's mouth with his own, flicking his tongue into Sam's mouth to distract him from the words that would pain Castiel more than Sam. He will never understand how Sam cannot see himself as the worthy and amazing person he is.

When he has kissed Sam to the point of incoherency, he shifts down to Sam's neck, nuzzling him and petting his hair. "You are beautiful and perfect, Sam."

Cas feels Sam's adam's apple go up and down as he swallows, and keeps his face pressed tight against Sam's neck, already plotting.

~~~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Alllll the angst.

~~~

Dean starts cooking. He always does when they're in a weird place, the three of them, and he doesn't know what to do to make it better. The only comfort he's really good at is food, so he sets about making a dinner of all their favorites.

He's sorry for his outburst; he hasn't actually given up on what Sam wants, but his temper makes him mean. Cas hasn't made an appearance yet, so he hopes he's taking care of his little brother. Fuck, Dean's an asshole sometimes. 

He prepares the skirt steak, using the meat mallet on it, pounding it thin. It always amuses him when he needs to do stuff like this, beat the crap out of food to wrestle it into submission; it's such an echo of his normal life that he has to wonder what the hell normal people feel like when they're pounding on a strip of meat. Then he seasons it, light on the pepper because that's the way Sam likes it, and sets it aside. 

The water on the stove is boiling, so he throws in the curly noodles for Cas's mac and cheese and gives it a stir. Once the pasta's in the pot, he thinks about his own meal and his stomach lets him know he won't be eating for a while. Until he gets a chance to apologize to Sam at least. 

He sighs and starts grating cheese. It takes a pound of cheddar to get the mac and cheese cheesy enough for Cas, and Dean mixes in just a bit of goat cheese to make it creamier and give it some tang. 

Once that's all done, he starts cleaning and chopping the vegetables for Sam's salad while he waits for the pasta to finish. He washes the arugula and sets it out on the plate, fussing over it in a way he wouldn't if he didn't feel guilty. A little red leaf lettuce, torn to very small pieces to make it easier to eat, and next up will be the vegetables, dressed in a little rice vinegar. Tomatoes, red peppers, avocado. but not yet – he doesn't want the lettuce to wilt and the avocado to go brown before Sam and Cas get here.

The pasta timer buzzes and he strains it and puts in back in the pot, slowly melting the cheese into it, alternating with dollops of milk. 

He's starting to feel better. He still feels lousy, and will, until he's apologized to Sam properly and Sam's honestly accepted it, but it calms him to concentrate on food. He's got another twenty minutes of prep yet; he hopes they show up before he's finished because he doesn't want Cas's mac and cheese to go cold while he tracks them down and cajoles them into coming into the kitchen to eat.

Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, he finally gets all the cheese into the pasta and throws it into a stoneware bowl, breadcrumbs on top. He checks the temperature on the oven and sets the pasta aside while it finishes pre-heating.

It's down to the last ten minutes – once he cooks Sam's steak, it's just finishing Cas's mac and cheese in the oven and assembling Sam's salad, and if they don't show up before Dean finishes, the food'll be cold and crappy when they get back to the kitchen, because Dean knows the only thing that's coming up next is a fight and an apology. Maybe he can avoid the fight if he's fast enough with the apology. It'd still be long enough that the food would go to waste, though. 

He sighs, putting the skirt steak into the pan and searing it. It smells good, but his stomach lurches like that's not a good thing, so he just stands a little back from it and tries to put together the words to his apology. He's had to get better at words, at Cas's insistence. He thought that Sam understood all the non-verbal stuff before, that when things got back to normal, that meant all is forgiven. Apparently that's not how it works for Sam, though, and it hits Dean that maybe _he_ isn't completely forgiven either. 

That's the thing that makes him lose it again, tears threatening. His stupid tear ducts, he really hates them. It's like they're ready to leak at the drop of a hat lately.

"Smells good," Sam says, and Dean looks up to see his brother in the doorway, Cas at his side.

"'s for you," Dean answers, tilting his head at all the salad stuff on the counter. 

Sam nods. "Can I help?"

"Nah," Dean says. "Almost ready. Have a seat."

They tend to eat in the kitchen; it's closest to the food and easiest to clean. Sometimes they eat in the main room, if there's research to be done or if Cas or Sam is feeling a little like a more formal dinner. Usually that means wine. Dean doesn't like wine, but Cas is developing a taste and Sam's always had a weird desire to be a snooty wine connoisseur, so he delights in buying bottles and figuring out what he and Cas like.

Dean's not sure which way this will go; which way he wants it to go. Staying in the kitchen means closer together, but lots of weapons handy (and they do stupid shit like throw things all the time, Dean's just not rational when he's pissed at Sammy), but the big room feels to empty; makes the arguments echo, and that makes the conversation stilted.

Sam and Cas share a look and move together into the kitchen, Sam going to the cabinets to grab glasses and Cas to the refrigerator to see what they have to drink. He pulls out the milk for himself, and gets out of the way so Sam can get at the filtered water. 

Dean shakes his head. They are getting so soft.

"Beer, Dean?" Cas asks.

"No, thanks," Dean answers. If he can't eat, he sure as hell can't drink anything. 

He throws Cas's mac and cheese in the oven while the meat for Sam's salad rests. He wants to apologize now, but he has to wait until he's looking at Sam, or it won't mean as much. He dresses the veggies and arranges them on top of the lettuce for Sam's salad, crumbling goat cheese on top and waiting for another minute while he struggles with the words for his opener.

The buzzer for Cas's mac and cheese goes off and he pulls it out of the oven, setting it aside to let it cool just a little while he slices up the steak and arranges it prettily on top of Sam's salad. 

He stares at the food for a long second, taking deep breaths to steel himself. Finally, he grabs the dishes and brings them to where Sam and Cas are sitting at the little table, kitty corner from each other.

Sam says, "Wow," as he reaches out for the salad plate. "Thanks, Dean." The sincerity in it makes Dean want to scream.

Cas doesn't say anything as Dean sets the bowl of mac and cheese in front of him, so Dean says, "It's hot," unnecessarily.

"I know," Cas says. "But we have no utensils."

 _Shit._ Dean forgot the flatware. "I'll get 'em," he says, since he's still standing. He hasn't figured out where he's going to sit yet. Normally he'd sit next to Sam and across from Cas, the habit of a lifetime of sitting next to his brother. But he always focuses on whoever is across from him, and he needs to watch Sam as he delivers his apology, make sure he doesn’t miss anything in the way Sam responds.

He comes back with full sets of utensils for both of them, never quite sure if Cas will eat the mac and cheese with a spoon or a fork, or if Sam'll need a knife to cut the steak. 

He edges past Cas and sits next to him, prompting both of them to look up at him, curious. He breathes. He wants to apologize, but he doesn't want the food to get cold. "Eat up," he says, handing them each their flatware.

Sam shrugs and starts eating, taking a piece of steak from the top and folding the whole thing into his mouth. He hums his pleasure and goes in for another bite.

Cas is still staring at Dean, his fork in hand but not anywhere near his mac and cheese. Dean nods down at it, and Cas tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

Dean is still getting used to Cas's non-verbal communication. He struggles with it because it's just not really _human_. Sometimes it is, sometimes it's like Cas picked up quirks from the humans he guarded, but now, the head tilt and raised eyebrow could mean anything – and does. He uses the same expression for almost everything he tries to say when he knows he can't speak in front of both of them. Dean can't help smiling when he realizes it's because Cas is trying to get across an entire sentence, with actual words, rather than a simply readable phrase. Maybe he thinks Sam and Dean actually have telepathy, and don't just know each other inside and out from being together 24/7 for the great majority of their lives.

"Better eat up," Dean says, nodding at the pasta. "Don't want the cheese to go cold."

Cas sighs and rolls his eyes, but he turns to his mac and cheese and his eyes close blissfully after the first bite, so Dean feels pretty gratified. 

"You're not eating?" Sam asks, pointing a forkful of lettuce at him.

Dean tries to smile, knowing Sam can see right through him, and says, "Not right now." Just to prove him a liar, his stomach growls loudly.

Sam smiles at him. It's an easy smile, uncomplicated, and it takes Dean's breath away. How Sam is able to let go of everything and just be thankful for the three of them makes his guts twist. Then Sam lifts another forkful of salad toward Dean and says, "Apology accepted."

Before, Dean would've answered that with a wisecrack. He can feel three or four of them piled up in the back of his throat, ready to be let out. But he tamps them down, meeting Sam's eyes and actually saying the words. "I really am sorry, Sam. I didn't mean any of that."

Sam grins, stuffing more food in his mouth before he says, "I know, Dean."

Sam's nearly done with his salad, so Dean decides it's time to say the words he's been practicing.

"Listen," Dean says, and the uncomplicated smile slides right off Sam's face, his forehead wrinkling up with worry. "I'm gonna stop trying to make you beg, alright?"

Sam's eyes flick across the table to Cas and then come back to Dean. "Okay," he says slowly, questioning at the end.

Dean nods. "I want you to tell me what you want," he says, watching Sam's eyes flinch, "but I'm trusting you to be able to do that if and when you feel like it."

Now there is a whole lot of complicated shit happening on Sam's face, and Dean can read confusion, frustration, and that damn self-loathing again. He reaches out to take Sam's chin in his hand, forcing Sam to meet his eyes. 

"And if there is anything you think I wouldn't give you, you're wrong. So if you're holding back because of me, then you can stop it." He gives Sam's chin a shake and lets go, sitting back to see if Sam will say anything.

Sam looks down, poking at the remains of his salad for a little while before setting down his fork.

"Why do you cry during sex?" he asks.

Dean starts. He opens his mouth to say something smart, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth and words finally tumble into his brain. He knows Sam noticed, but he hasn't said anything for all these months, and he assumed Sam was just saving him the embarrassment of teasing. Teasing would've been easier than this, though.

He shrugs. He's tried to figure out why he cries, too, what it is that sends him over that particular edge. He's never been able to figure it out, but he's never been sad, so he assumes they're happy tears, and leaves it at that. "Dunno," he says, finally. 

"I think I do," Sam says, and Dean's eyes snap back to Sam's, fear squeezing his heart in a vise-like grip. Cas takes one of his hands and interlaces their fingers. It helps, but not enough. Sam doesn't do it often, but he can cut Dean to the bone to make a point, and Dean tenses, uselessly trying to brace himself against his brother's too-astute observations.

"Did you cry with Lisa?" 

Dean turtles his head back in confusion. "What?" 

"You heard me."

Dean doesn't think about Lisa. It hurts too much, her and Ben, so he's locked them away, put them somewhere he can't reach. It hurts to even hear her name. Sam's getting at something here, though, so he tries to remember sex with Lisa. There were a few times he cried, near the end, not that he hadn't known at the time things were about to change.

"Yeah," he says. "Not right away. Not until later."

Sam nods, glancing at Cas before looking back at Dean. "That’s because you loved her, Dean." 

Dean hadn't even remembered crying during sex with Lisa – it's one of the reasons he freaked out so bad the first time it happened with Sam and Cas. It seems like a perfectly reasonable answer, though he always loves Sam and Cas, so he's not sure why it doesn't happen every time, then.

"Okay," Dean says. "So what's your point?"

Sam pushes his plate to the side, puts his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his folded hands. "Remember the first time you tied me up?"

Dean nods. Of course he remembers. He planned that for days.

"You disobeyed one of Cas's orders."

Dean's guts twist and he goes cold enough to shiver. He wants to say, _stop, Sammy, don't_ but he can't get the words out of his mouth. He tries to get it across to Sam with his eyes, he begs Sam to shut up, to leave this alone.

Sam gives him a flash of a sad smile. "You didn't want to put your cock in my mouth."

Dean flinches. It doesn't sound sexy, like when Sam's talking dirty to them, it's just a fact, and Sam's cold statement stands like an accusation.

Before Dean can gather his wits to answer, though, Sam stabs him in the heart. "And when you cried then, it wasn't because you loved us and were happy. You didn't want to give that to me. You didn't want _me_."

"No," Dean growls, slapping his palms down on the table and pushing himself up. "That's not true."

"It's okay, Dean." Sam smiles resignedly, his eyes sad. "I know you love me, and we both love Cas, and you just… we just… we don't have to. We can do this without that part."

"No," Cas says, and they both jump and turn to him. "That's not what you want, Sam."

"I don't want to force Dean –"

"Hey," Dean grumps. "No one is forcing me to do anything here." He stands up all the way, grabbing Sam's shirt and pulling him up. He shifts his hands to Sam's face, pulling him forward. "I love you, you moron, though sometimes I wonder why, you're such a dumbshit."

He kisses Sam with everything he's got, telling him with every single molecule of his body that he loves Sam most of all, there is nothing he wouldn't give him. He vaguely hears the clatter of a plate going to the floor, but he's too wrapped up in making Sam understand to care.

When he finally releases Sam, there's a look of resignation on Sam's face, one Dean knows very well. Sam thinks he's giving in because he's weak, because he can't help himself, he wants them, and can't force himself to walk away. 

Dean's glad for it this time, though, and he'll find some way to put Sam's fears to rest.

~~~

They clean the kitchen and decide to spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching movies. Neither Dean nor Sam complains when Cas picks _Love, Actually_ , which Cas frowns at. Probably because he was expecting them to tease him, but neither Dean nor Sam is in the mood.

Sam falls asleep somewhere in the middle, his weight on Dean's side getting heavier and heavier the deeper he goes. Dean leans sideways into Cas, letting him take some of the weight. Cas shifts to make things more comfortable for all of them, and then Dean's head is resting on his chest and Cas is running his fingers through Dean's hair.

"He wants you to fuck him," Cas says. 

Dean's blood runs cold. 

"And that," Cas says, wrapping his arms around Dean when he shivers, "is why Sam thinks you don't want him."

Dean snorts. "All the crazy shit we get up to, and that's the thing that throws him off his game? Come on."

"Dean."

"What?" Dean complains. "Seriously, there's a million other things to do, why that?"

"Dean."

Dean sighs. Cas is surprisingly good at wearing him down, using nothing more than his name. "I… don't think he really wants that."

Cas grumbles his disagreement. Dean can feel it more than hear it. "He doesn't," Dean insists. "He just thinks he should because that would mean everything is equal between us."

"You could ask him," Cas says. "I am confident he would say yes if you offered."

"Yes isn't always yes with that kid," Dean says, trying to explain but knowing it will never make sense to Cas the way it does to him. "He does what he's supposed to do, what people want or need him to do, he lives with that because he can, because he's strong enough to do it. He never gets to put himself first." His face is leaking again, those fucking tears that got turned on when Sam started riding with him after Stanford and have turned into a damn flood over the years. "I can't be sure," Dean says, "and I won't be able to live with myself if he's only doing it because he thinks he should."

"But he accepts me," Cas says, and Dean knows he's not being rational about this. There's something about it that pushes some button he's got buried deep, something that insists he'd be hurting Sam in some unknowable way if he forced his way in. He can't explain it, he just knows he's right.

"Besides," Dean says, "if taking it up the ass isn't enough to show him we're not what we were, then I don't know what is."

Cas sighs noisily. "Dean." Cas stops momentarily, and Dean's about twist around to look at him when he continues. "You like _taking it up the ass_. I'd venture to say it's your favorite activity. And knowing your sexual history, I imagine Sam thinks you will take it any way you can get it, so it doesn't matter that it's him. It's not his cock in particular you're looking for."

Dean frowns, pretty sure he's been insulted but not quite certain how.

"Sam is looking for reassurance that you want _him_ , not just his cock in your ass."

Dean flinches. He hates sex talk outside the bedroom, and it's harder to take from Cas than Sam, even.

Cas seems to know they're at an impasse, so he quiets down, his arms still wrapped tightly around Dean. Dean turns back to the movie, watching it even though he's seen it enough to have memorized some of the dialogue. He's only a little surprised when he cries right along with Emma Thompson at her husband's betrayal.

~~~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is sneaky. A little bit of fluff to soothe the angst.

~~~

Things change. Cas knew they would, he understands that part of the dynamic will always be the shifting relationship between the three of them, but he hadn't planned on Sam's deeply damaged self-worth or Dean's deeply-embedded understanding of penetration as unwanted attention. It would be bizarre that he enjoys it so much if Cas didn't understand just how self-flagellating the Winchesters are.

It's slow going. The two of them dance around each other, keeping him between them for now. He certainly doesn't mind being the center of attention, though it pains him to see them hesitate to kiss or touch each other until they are all in the throes of passion. It means the easy experimentation of their first few months is off the table until this is resolved.

He knows he can't just order Dean to fuck Sam; it wouldn't mean anything to Sam and might break Dean, so he stops giving orders altogether. The both seem to miss it, but the skittishness whenever Cas speaks means it's for the best. Whatever happens between them must happen naturally.

Unfortunately, trying to change a Winchester's mind naturally is like trying to affect the weather; not impossible but very, very difficult and often with unexpected results. Especially since they're both on high alert that Cas might try something.

After a few weeks of the uncomfortableness, he starts a ritual in the mornings, teaching himself to wake up first so he can be sure they don't slip out of it. They sleep on either side of him, Dean on his left and Sam on his right, and he almost always wakes up to the two of them turned to the outside of the bed, having gotten too hot to sleep in the night.

They turn back to him when they wake up – Dean for a quick morning kiss before he bounds out of bed, and Sam to wrap himself around Cas for a few more minutes of snoozing. 

The bunker runs cold. Cas slips the covers down, lets his skin cool and then his whole body, waiting until he gets cold enough to shiver. Sam wakes first, just enough to roll over and throw an arm over Cas. It's Dean that becomes conscious enough to see what's going on, though, checking on Cas and yanking the covers back up before pressing his back into Cas, becoming the littlest spoon. 

Once he has them like this, he just has to be careful not to fall asleep again. He keeps himself preoccupied by touching them, lacing the fingers of his left hand with Sam's right, running his other hand over the skin of Dean's shoulder and arm. 

They swat at him if they're really tired, but unless they've been on a hunt, their sleep schedules approach normal, and Cas knows they don't like to sleep in unless they're sick. 

Dean comes awake first, turning his head to kiss Cas's hand and trying to get out of bed. "Wait," Cas says. "I need to tell you something."

Dean goes eerily still, tensed like he thinks the words might hurt him. Cas doesn't take offense, though the longer he's human the more frustrated he gets with some of the ingrained habits these men have. 

"I love the curve of your shoulder," Cas says, and Dean laughs, not unkindly.

"Thanks, Cas." He tries to get up again, but Cas slides his arm around Dean's stomach to prevent him from leaving. Sam's woken up – probably the talking, he always wakes when people talk around him.

"Sam," Cas says, waiting for Sam's acknowledgement before continuing, "I love your long, graceful neck."

"Thanks, Cas," Sam says, squeezing his fingers where they're interlaced. "I love your hands."

That surprises Cas. He doesn't often wonder about how the Winchesters think (it would lead to too many headaches), but he does sometimes wish he could see himself through their eyes. "Thank you, Sam." 

Dean's curled in on himself a little, around Cas's arm and away from his body. "You have the most beautiful mouth, Dean," Sam says quietly. Cas knows there's more, a host of things Sam _isn't_ saying, but he doesn't have time to worry about it because he's suddenly struggling to keep Dean in the bed. He would have lost him if Sam hadn't been able to fling his arm over them both, pulling Dean back in.

"Dean," Cas says quietly. 

Cas knows Dean isn't good at words. He speaks with his body, and normally that’s a perfectly acceptable mode of conversation for them, but only words will work to break down these barriers between the brothers, so he can't let Dean off that easy. 

"Dean, please," Cas says, and he feels as much as hears Dean take in a hitching breath. 

Dean rolls over to face them, careful not to dislodge their arms, not that he could've if he'd tried. His eyes search Cas's face first, his hands coming up to frame Cas's cheeks and thumb the lines by his eyes. "I love your crow's feet, Cas." 

Cas smiles, and Dean smiles right back at him, his thumb rubbing the lines that are getting more deeply etched by the minute with these two. "Thank you."

Dean holds Cas's eyes for another minute and then focuses them on Sam, where he's mostly hidden behind Cas. He reaches out a hand and Cas looks over his shoulder to see where it connects.

Sam's eyes are closed, like he can't bear what Dean might say. Dean cups his jaw, tracing a finger over the furthest back corner. "Mine," he says, and when Sam's eyes open suddenly, they're soft and grateful. "This right here," Dean says, making circles around the back of Sam's jaw. "This is my favorite spot."

Cas turns away, burying his head down into the pillows so he doesn't disturb them. He keeps his grip on Dean, knowing they're not done yet. He doesn't think this will lead to sex – tenderness rarely does, and if that doesn't tell him everything he needs to know about the Winchesters, he doesn't know what would.

"One thing I want today is to go out in the fresh air," Cas says. 

Sam's already gotten the game, so it's his voice Cas expects to hear next. He's surprised at Dean's soft, "I want a drive." 

Dean gets antsy after a while if they don't have a hunt. He likes having a home, but he misses the open road. He leaves the bunker every day, ostensibly to buy groceries or alcohol or magazines or candy – whatever he finds when he's out that justifies the trip. After a week or two, though, he needs more time, several hours in the car to settle him.

"I want St. Louis barbecue," Sam says, and Cas can feel Dean's entire body light up with his grin. 

"Bogart's," Dean says, and Sam laughs, his chest rumbling against Cas's back. 

"Bogart's," Sam answers, and that's how they spend the next two days driving to St. Louis, eating enough barbecue to make them sick, and driving back, trunk full of even more barbecue (carefully packed into a cooler bought just for that purpose).

~~~

Winchesters really like routine. It would be funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking. It'd always seemed to Cas like their lives had no order, but in fact it is a very complex set of overlapping schedules that it's taken Cas nearly his entire time with them to learn. There are daily necessities – basic human hygiene things that Cas resents but has resigned himself to – as well as meal timetables, researching-for-cases routines, weapons-care procedures, car-maintenance schedules, sparring practice, and several others, on shorter or longer cycles that overlap to make it seem like they randomly choose what to do each day, but in actuality, it is the furthest thing from random. Sam especially enjoys routine and has many more daily or near-daily ones than his brother, including running, reading, and keeping up with local and national politics. Dean makes most of their food, so he tends to spend time in the kitchen, preparing and cooking, as well as cleaning.

It makes turning their morning declarations into a routine laughably easy. 

They change with their moods, so if Dean wakes up horny, there are smartass remarks that lead to wrestling and eventually sex; if Sam wakes up disoriented, there are soft words and touches until he comes back to himself; if Cas wakes up grumpy, there is teasing and tickling and laughter until he snaps out of it.

After a few weeks, Cas nudges them again. He says, "I want to be held down while getting fucked."

Both Winchesters hold their breath and for a moment Cas is terrified that he's pushed them too far too soon, but Dean says, "I want to hold Cas's arms," at the same time Sam says, "I want to fuck Cas," and then they both scramble to oblige.

It only takes that one planted seed for the Winchesters to pick it up, usually taking a few days to rack up the courage to ask for something. It starts with simple things. Sam misses Dean riding him almost as much as Dean does; Dean misses playing with Sam's nipples for hours on end; all of them miss Dean being told what to do by Cas. Things move slowly back to where they were before, and Cas has pushed as far as he can. They are asking for new things, mostly simple things, easily achievable and likely to work out for everyone involved, and Cas is simply holding his breath that Sam will eventually be brave enough to say the one thing he wants most of all.

~~~


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally asks.

~~~

The dreams are the worst.

Sam doesn't remember them, he just knows he wakes up scared. The first name on his lips is always _Dean_ , and Dean is always there within seconds, pulling Sam into a hug or curling around him, or, like today, rolling on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, but he sinks under Dean's weight, the pressure infinitely comforting.

"Shhh, Sammy," Dean says, and Sam can feel another hand petting his arm, a smooth stroke from shoulder to wrist, eventually going all the way down to his hand and interlacing their fingers. 

"Cas?" he asks, breathing shallowly because Dean is dense and all that weight on his chest gives him a reason to have trouble breathing.

"Yes, Sam," Cas says. "You were flailing."

Sam turns his head to look – the last time he flailed himself awake, he caught Cas's forehead with a fingernail, giving him a huge gash. "You okay?" Sam asks, his eyes searching Cas's face.

"I'm fine, Sam, don't worry."

Sam can't help it. When Dean lies on top of him like this, it's because it's the only way he feels safe; it means he was moaning and thrashing and he might have hurt someone. 

"Shh," Dean says again, pulling himself up Sam's body, just a few inches so his face is over Sam's. "It's okay, Sammy, I'm here."

Sam lets out a shaky breath, forcing himself to recite the simple things, their names, their birthdates, their PO box number, the Impala's license plate. His breathing gets easier and he tips his head back, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

"I love the point of your chin," Dean says, kissing it. Sam feels his face screw up in disbelief; it's always hardest hearing Dean tell him what he loves. Cas he can believe, but Dean…

"I love that part of your jaw Dean thinks he owns," Cas says, and Sam breathes out something that might've been a laugh if he'd gotten a decent lungful of air any time in the last few minutes.

"Back off," Dean says, "It's mine."

Cas is closer, though, so he leans in and places a kiss on the corner of Sam's jaw, earning him a swat from Dean. 

"What?" he asks. "Don't I get some piece of Sam too?" He nudges Sam's jaw up with his nose and kisses a line down the side of his neck to his shoulder, and Sam can feel his pulse tick up. "Maybe I'll take the dip where his collarbones meet," Cas says.

Unfortunately, Dean is lying directly on top of Sam, and his mouth is mere inches from that place, so it only takes one disgustingly overly-loud lick for Dean to stake his claim. "Nope," Dean says. "Mine."

"Hm," Cas says, like he's actually considering what part of Sam might belong to him specifically, like Sam's body and soul don't already belong to the two of them. 

"Joint custody," Sam wheezes, trying to get enough leverage to buck Dean off. 

"No way," Dean says. "I'm not sharing your nipples."

As if to prove the point, Dean slides back six inches and rubs his thumbs over Sam's pecs, bringing his nipples to hardness in two seconds flat, then mouthing at one sloppily. Sam groans, and his whole body stiffens underneath Dean. He's not sure he's ready for the shift into overdrive.

"Dean," Cas says gently, and that's all it takes for Dean to switch gears, mouthing his way down Sam's chest, his hands firm on Sam's sides, still holding him together.

Cas's mouth has moved to Sam's shoulder, licking and nibbling, soothing more than anything. After a minute, Cas says, "I want you to feel safe."

Sam has to look away. The problem is, the safer he feels, the more of this crap comes flowing out of him. It's the constant danger that keeps it in check; he can't afford to fall apart when they're on a case. He's had more nightmares here in this bed with them than he has since his wall came down. It's still only a couple times a month, but it's enough to bring back feelings he hasn't had since his mind was imploding under the weight of memories from the cage.

Dean's stopped moving, setting his cheek down on Sam's stomach. Dean's never had this kind of weakness. Sometimes Sam wishes he could actually ask Dean how he copes, how he's gotten over his time in hell. 

"I want…" Dean says, and just breathes for a long second. Sam knows there's a laundry list of things Dean wants from him, ways he's failed his brother that no one else ever could, Sam being the only person with that sort of power over Dean – at least until Cas came into their lives.

"I want you not to have lived this life," Dean says finally, his eyes lowered, tracing some pattern on Sam's skin only he can see. "I want to go back to when I could still keep you safe."

Sam wishes that, too. For both of them. 

"What do you want, Sam?" Cas asks, his breath hot and damp on Sam's shoulder.

There's something freeing about being this raw. He has nothing to lose when he feels like this – he's already inside out and exposed, vulnerable in every way. "I want Dean to fuck me," he breathes, and he feels Dean press his forehead down into his stomach, his fingers digging into Sam's sides just a little. "Face to face," Sam adds, because he's a glutton for punishment, and because he needs to see Dean, needs to see Dean's face, his eyes. 

"Sammy," Dean whines, his mouth right over Sam's belly button so it tickles.

"Dean," Cas interrupts, and Sam's grateful for that because he can't handle being rejected by Dean right now; he'd been so sure if he asked, Dean would say yes. 

"Sam has requested this – are you unwilling to give him what he wants?"

Sam can hear Dean's breath hitch; he starts shutting himself down, moving on to something else to ask for. Maybe having Dean ride him while…

"Why?" Dean asks, and Sam has to stop and figure out what Dean's asking.

"Why do I want that?" he clarifies.

Dean gives the tiniest of nods, a thing Sam feels against his stomach more than sees. "Why do I want to know that my brother wants me as much as I want him? Why do I want to feel like I'm not the only freak here, that you're not in this because you're trying to take care of me like you always do? Why –"

Cas stops him forcefully, springing up to cage Sam in with his body, keeping his mouth from going off with a kiss. Sam's not done yet, though, and Dean asked, so he's going to tell him. He kisses Cas back for just a second, getting his hands up to push him off. "It's okay, Cas."

"Sam, please," Cas says, and Sam stops long enough to look at Cas, see if he can figure out what he's so worried Sam might say. Usually Cas is the one that speaks the truth so baldly, making them wince with how their insecurities are laid out for everyone to see.

"That what you think?" Dean asks. "I'm faking it?"

Sam closes his eyes. That's not what he said, but of course that's how Dean would take it. "I think you want me to be happy, and you would do anything – even this – to make it happen."

Dean sits back on his haunches, nodding and pouting his lips out just for a second, and Sam holds his breath. He's hit a nerve, and Dean is either going to clam up, leave them to go drive the Impala around for a couple of hours and brood, or strike out at him, and Sam's been cut to the quick by Dean before when his pride is injured.

Sam doesn't do anything – he's stubborn, for one, and this is important to him. He needs to know he's not forcing Dean to do something he doesn't want to do. Cas reaches out a desperate hand to Dean, though, and Dean stares him down with the same look that's stopped monsters in their tracks.

"I think," Dean says, pulling himself up Sam's body again, settling his knees outside of Sam's hips and sitting down right on Sam's pelvis. "That if you really wanted to get fucked by me, you wouldn't lie back and take it from Cas, all gentle and slow."

Sam's brain shorts out and he can't do anything but blink up at Dean. Did Dean just challenge him? His face is hard and that's as unreadable as Dean gets; there's a lot going on back in his mind that Sam will never see now because Dean is scared, and he brings down a brick wall of anger to hide behind when he's scared.

"Get out of the way, Cas," Sam warns, pleased when Cas immediately scrambles across the bed. Dean's ready for this, so he has to think before he acts, do it on his off side. He feints for Dean's arm, avoiding the block Dean had at the ready and going for his neck instead, twisting to the left and getting Dean off-balance enough to throw him sideways. 

He doesn't let go, using Dean's momentum to pull him along, right on top of Dean, and as much as Dean struggles, Sam's got him. Dean never was any good at wrestling.

His arms and legs are longer than Dean's, so once he's got Dean on his back, he strong-arms him, keeping his shoulders down, and climbs on top of him. "Is this what you want, Dean?" Sam asks, dropping his weight down on Dean's stomach hard enough to get an _oof_ out of him.

Cas is making some noise over by their dresser, but Sam is staring Dean down now, trying to figure out what is going on with him.

"Is it what _you_ want?" Dean asks, pressing his hips up behind Sam. It's a challenge, like everything with Dean, so Sam knows Dean is basically teasing him about not knowing how this works. And to be fair, he doesn't. He's never climbed on top of anyone before, not like this, and he's never ridden anyone before, and Dean knows that. Then he remembers that neither had Dean when they started this whole mess, so he says, "Tell me what to do, Cas," and that shuts his brother up but good.

He watches Dean's face as he listens for Cas's voice. "Sam," Cas says, already back on the bed. "Are you sure?"

"No," Dean says. "He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about." He's still angry-covering-for-something-else, and Sam would do anything to figure out what the "something else" is. 

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," Sam counters, "and what I want, and I'm asking you to help me, Cas."

Cas is just behind and to the side of Sam – Sam can feel him stirring the air over there as he gets things ready. Dean's eyes are on Cas now, pleading with him, and that's not fair. Cas rarely has to choose between them, but when he does, Sam is always at the disadvantage.

"Dean," Cas says, his voice soft and soothing. "May I prepare your brother to take you?"

Sam almost answers, it's so ingrained, but the lightness in his chest when he realizes Cas asked _Dean_ has him giddy. He may not know exactly what is going on with Dean, but Cas does, and Cas is on his side. 

Sam holds very still while they wait for Dean's answer. His façade has cracked and there's doubt and maybe hurt at Cas's betrayal on his face. "Cas…"

Cas simply waits for Dean's answer, and Dean finally brings his eyes back to Sam's – sans bravado or defense mechanisms or anything else, and Sam can't help reaching out to him, he looks so lost. He puts his hand gently on Dean's face. "I want this, Dean," Sam says softly. "Please. You said you'd give me anything."

The look on Dean's face is almost enough to make Sam regret asking; he's never seen Dean look so unsure and conflicted. He leans forward and kisses his brother. "Please, Dean," he says again. "Please, I want this."

"That's not fair, Sammy," Dean whispers.

Sam smiles. He's not above playing dirty to get something he really wants, though he hasn't done it in years. "I know," he says simply. "But you promised."

Dean looks away, first up at the ceiling, and then just to Sam's left; he assumes where Cas is. "Okay, Cas."

Sam beams down at Dean, turning around to look at Cas, eager to get his first instruction. 

Cas is smiling indulgently at him, and he rests a hand on Sam's back. "May Sam kiss you?" he asks, and Sam turns back to Dean, waiting to see how graciously he accepts defeat.

"Yeah, fine," Dean says, sounding annoyed and a little pissy. Not graciously at all, then.

Sam doesn't care, though, he's won and nothing is going to dampen his spirits, least of all Dean and his weird issues with fucking Sam. 

"On all fours, Sam," Cas says, and Sam puts his hands down on the bed on either side of Dean's face, scooting back down the bed a little when his face ends up over the top of Dean's head.

Cas grabs his hips and pulls him back even further, until he's almost out of reach of Dean's mouth. "Wait," Sam says, straining forward to try and kiss his brother. "I can't reach."

Cas chuckles, loosening his grip a little, and Sam surges forward to kiss Dean. 

They haven't done this in a while. Sam really likes kissing, but both he and Dean tend to kiss Cas more than each other. Sam starts gently; he has a feeling this all ties together, somehow, and the uncertainty kicks in again. If Dean is really doing this just to make Sam happy, then kissing is one of the things that would be uncomfortable. 

It is a little uncomfortable, but if there is one thing Sam can do better than Dean, it's out-stubborn him when it really counts. He knows how Dean works, and they might not kiss that much, but he knows what Dean likes, and he knows how to draw him out. 

Cas spreads Sam's legs, his slippery fingers coating Sam in lube from the tip of his cock to his asshole. It makes his heart jump, surprises him into kissing Dean a little harder, a little more insistently. He needs to get Dean to the point where he's just feeling, his body running the show and all his doubts shut down. 

It's hard to concentrate on Dean when Cas is doing his level best to drive Sam crazy, but he hangs on, using Cas's implacable hands as guidance for how to attack Dean's mouth. He can feel Dean teetering on the brink of forgetting himself; he wishes he could use his hands to push Dean right over the edge. 

Cas finishes before Sam can get there, though, and when he asks Dean if he can put the condom on, the doubts are back just like Sam hasn't spent the last half hour trying to kiss them off Dean's face.

He wants to ask – he wants to _know_ – but if he asks right now, Dean will tell him, and that would ruin everything. So he ignores the question burning in his gut and tips his hips back until his cock is dragging alongside Dean's, a light touch that sets Sam's skin on fire and makes Dean moan and squeeze his eyes shut. 

Sam looks down at their cocks, jerking a little when Cas's hands brush his as he gently puts the condom on Dean. Then there's the lube, copious amounts of it as always, and Sam lets his cock slide around in it, finding the groove of Dean's hip and thrusting a couple of times. 

When Cas takes Dean in hand, Sam switches back to Dean's face, surprised to find Dean staring at him intently. "Are you ready, Dean?" Cas asks, and Dean's eyebrows do something complicated as he meets Sam's gaze.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam's pretty sure he means to say more than that, but it's all caught in his throat, and Sam leans forward to kiss Dean again, a simple, sweet kiss that he thinks says everything he needs it to.

"Please, Dean," Sam whispers against his lips. "I need this."

Dean leaves his eyes closed as Sam pulls away, but he nods once, his face screwed up in some complicated tangle of emotions.

"Relax, Sam," Cas says, his fingers working their magic, guiding Dean to his hole. "Just relax, let your weight settle you onto him."

Dean's hands fly to Sam's hips, his grip so tight there'll be bruises later, forcing him to go painfully slow. It takes a hell of a lot of concentration to relax enough just to get the head of Dean's cock inside him, and he has to keep reminding himself to breathe. _Relax, breathe, spread your legs…_ it becomes a mantra that keeps Sam preoccupied enough to not think about anything else, Cas's murmured encouragements, _good_ and _yes_ and _beautiful_ soft in his ear. 

He can't look at Dean, not yet, because he has to get comfortable enough to control everything; if he can't, Dean will win somehow. He doesn't really understand why, he just knows he has to be able to look Dean in the eye without any effort or worry or everything will go wrong.

The thing is… he's not built for this, not really. For a guy as tall as he is, he's relatively flexible, but his thighs are screaming at the stretch, and he hasn't even got half of Dean's cock in him yet. And while it's not unpleasant, it's not even as good as when Cas fucks him; the angle is a little uncomfortable and there aren't any good sparks – probably because Dean isn't in him far enough to hit his prostate yet. 

He keeps going, head down in concentration, until Dean's voice finally breaks through the haze of his thoughts. "Sammy," Dean's saying, his hands on Sam's hips lifting Sam up, and Sam shakes his head, no, this can't go wrong, he can't mess this up, he'll never get another shot at this –

"Sam," Cas says, his hands on Sam's waist now, helping Dean unseat him, the traitor, he said he was on Sam's side –

"Hey," Dean says, "hey, hey, hey, it's okay, Sammy," and then he and Cas are wrangling Sam to the bed and lying on either side of him, Dean tucked in behind him and Cas in front, and Sam's mumbling, "no no no no no" and squeezing his eyes shut because he failed and Dean's never going to give him another chance.

"Shh, it's okay, Sammy," Dean says, his hands still on Sam's hips, one caught under Sam and one on top. He squeezes. "You don't have to prove anything."

Sam closes his eyes and turns his face into the pillow. Dean doesn't understand. 

He feels someone's hand trail up his chest and then his neck, pausing to press a thumb into the place his collarbones meet. He opens his eyes and sees Cas smiling at him, which somehow makes it all so much worse. 

"I definitely think this is mine," Cas says, leaning forward to place a kiss there. He traces his tongue along Sam's collarbone, kissing his shoulder when he gets there. "Maybe just the entire clavicle."

"That's okay," Dean says, shifting down just a little behind Sam. Sam can feel Dean's breath hot on his shoulder blade. "I'm taking this little curve where his spine comes down to meet his ass."

He traces his fingers down Sam's spine, and Sam can't help a shiver. "Then again," Dean says, walking his fingers down the cleft of Sam's ass, "I think I'll take his ass, too."

Sam closes his eyes as Dean presses two fingers into him, arching his back to try and get more. 

"I guess you won't need his nipples, then," Cas says, and Sam's eyes fly back open as Cas scoots down the bed and puts his mouth on one. 

"Fuck," Sam mutters, his eyes going half-closed. He got his nipples pierced one night at Stanford when he was really drunk, and even though he took them out the next day and let them heal, they've been super sensitive ever since. He's debated telling Dean that since their first night together, but he's not sure Dean wouldn't ask him to pierce them again, and that kind of hardware is just a detriment in their line of work.

He squirms back against Dean's fingers, his breathing going harsh and shallow. "You want something, little brother?" Dean asks, crooking his fingers in Sam's ass. Just to make things more out of control, Cas slides a hand through the lube coating Sam's thigh and strokes Sam's cock a few times, tight and hot.

"Hunnnh," Sam groans, his body trying to break itself in half as he presses back against Dean and up into Cas's mouth and hands. 

"What was that?" Dean asks, and Sam's eyes cross as he feels Dean's cock slide down the cleft of his ass and replace his fingers right at the Sam's hole. "Hm?"

"Dean," Sam moans, his hand flailing backward to grab Dean's hip, to try and get a little leverage.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean says, low, into Sam's skin. "Tell me you want it."

"Fuck, yes," Sam says. He takes a deep breath, his whole body shaking when he lets it out. "Dean, please!" 

If Sam had known that the only thing he ever needed to do to get his way with his brother in bed was to say the word please, he would have never held out. It's like Dean is free of whatever self-imposed restriction he placed on himself, and suddenly he's pressing up into Sam, slick and sweet, and whispering Sam's name over and over, his own sacred litany. 

Between Dean's cock and Cas's mouth and hands, Sam loses himself completely, rising in a perfect spiral of pleasure, coming with the word _please_ on his lips. It isn't until Dean comes, just seconds behind him, that he closes his eyes and lets out his held breath. He's only a little surprised to feel Cas's come splatter hot on his stomach, too. 

As he comes back down, his muscles settle blockily, sometimes twitching as they release their excess energy like the Impala cooling down and ticking after a long drive. He opens his eyes to see Cas smiling – not at him, he realizes, but at Dean, whose chin is resting on his shoulder. His eyes shift to Sam's as soon as he opens them, though, and his grin gets even bigger.

"Suprasternal notch," Sam croaks, and Cas's eyes crinkle up as his grin turns goofy.

"Hm?" Dean asks lazily. 

"It's the place where his collarbones meet," Cas says. "It's called the suprasternal notch. And it's mine."

"Nuh-uh," Dean says, swatting Cas's hands away from Sam's neck. "I claimed it first."

"Children," Sam says, in his best fourth-grade-teacher voice. "You're going to have to learn to share."

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last schmoopy chapter to tie things up - hopefully won't take as long as this one. :)


	11. Chapter 11

~~~

Cas hates taking sides.

Most of the time, the Winchesters agree on everything, so it doesn't matter if he disagrees. When they disagree, it's often on unimportant things, their likes and dislikes, wine and porn and salads, so it doesn't matter whose side he chooses. 

When they clash on the important things, though, like Sam wanting Dean to fuck him, it makes Cas the tie-breaker and it means he will have to go against one of them. This time it's Dean.

He knows Dean feels like he'd be hurting his brother, somehow, but Cas knows that's untrue, so he can only hope that once Dean's body takes over, he will understand that Sam is enjoying himself and those fears will fall away. He watches Dean closely to make sure he doesn't hit the breaking point – if he can't let go, he will only hate himself after, even if Sam loves it.

He's concentrating so hard on Dean that he doesn't see Sam's distress right away. It's stupid, really, he hadn't thought of the fact that Sam simply might not be able to be penetrated that way, that he might be the wrong proportion or not flexible enough, or not experienced enough. It was extremely short-sighted of him, and it isn't until he notices Dean's expression move from controlled determination to worry that he even looks at Sam.

He is covered in sweat, his head hanging down and his face screwed up in extreme concentration. 

"Sammy," Dean says, and starts pulling him up by his pelvic girdle. He tries a few times before it even registers with Sam, who immediately shifts into scared and stubborn mode, fighting Dean and trying to force his body to do something it isn't made to do. 

Cas has made a grave error. He can only hope that Dean doesn't take it as proof he was right all along. "Sam," Cas says, shifting behind him and putting his hands on Sam's waist to help Dean's effort.

Something must change in Sam's expression, because Dean's tone changes to desperation and comfort. Cas helps lift Sam, taking the bulk of his weight as they wrestle him down to the bed, on his side with Dean behind and Cas in front.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean says, his voice reminiscent of the way he speaks to Sam when he wakes up from his nightmares. Cas wishes he could have seen them as children. Dean's devotion is blinding when it's on display like this; to have seen it when they were young would have been a sight to behold. 

"You don't have to prove anything," Dean says, and Cas's heart drops at the statement. Dean has misread Sam's intentions, and Sam's breaks into a soft mantra of "no, no, no" and turns his face into the pillow. 

Cas catches Dean's eye and shakes his head. Dean's eyes go sharp immediately, the concern about Sam taking a backseat for just a moment while he ticks through what Cas might mean. His eyes narrow and he gives a short, sharp shake of his head.

Cas just nods slowly, tilting his head toward Sam and raising an eyebrow. He would try do something more, or maybe even mouth the words "it's what he wants," but he has learned that non-verbal communication is surprisingly complex. It seems so simple when the brothers do it, but they have had lifetimes to develop their language, and Cas hadn't even bothered to try until he became human.

He gives up on Dean and puts his hands on Sam instead. It isn't until he can feel Sam's body react under his simple touch that he realizes he hadn't been touching Sam at all while he had tried to ride his brother, and they all know Sam needs stimulation other than penetration to enjoy himself. So this is all Cas's fault, then. He must fix it.

He smoothes his hand up Sam's chest, stopping at the suprasternal notch. He loves that place in humans, it is some of his Father's most beautifully artistic work. He can't help smiling, and when Sam opens his eyes, Cas can see in them Sam's surety that he has failed, the absolute certainty that he is broken and Dean could never want him like that and he will have to withdraw from Dean for his own good. He may not be able to read non-verbal gestures, but he knows every millimeter of these boys' faces and he can still read their eyes nearly as well as when he was an angel. He wonders if that is because they are so expressive or he is so drawn to them he has studied them each for years, often without their knowledge or consent.

Cas's smile turns sad. He doesn't like to think of some of the things he did while he was an angel. He meets Sam's eyes again, with determination and all of the overwhelming love that takes his breath away, every time he thinks of how fortunate he is that these men care for him.

"I definitely think this is mine," Cas says, kissing the spot. He kisses his way along the bone, his eyes finding Dean's. Dean is uncertain again. It's good, actually – something in him is at least partially convinced that Sam may want this. Conflicted is a good look on Dean, because it almost always precedes a life-changing decision and the determination to stick to it. 

Cas places one last chaste kiss on Sam's shoulder and says, mischievous now, "Maybe just the entire clavicle."

Dean smiles out of one side of his mouth, his false bravado in place again. He lays claim to Sam's lower spine, and then his ass, and then Sam's eyes open wide as Dean does something, his smirk firmly in place and aimed at Cas.

Cas smirks back, taking advantage of being the one facing Sam for a change and putting one of his nipples in his mouth. He can feel Sam's body strung tight under him and hear Dean's cocksure words and Sam's breathless answers, so he steals some lube from between Sam's thighs and takes him in hand. He's straining his hips backward, and when Cas clues back in to what the brothers are saying, he hears Sam say "please." He'd said it before – like a weapon, a tool to get what he wanted – but this was different. This was needy and followed Dean's name, and Cas could see the shift in Dean, from grim determination to give Sam what he asked for into desire to give Sam exactly what he wants.

Cas doesn't often feel his own body's desires; his thoughts guide almost all his sexual interactions with the brothers, and often his body doesn't even enter into play. The brothers have come to accept it, though he knows they worry that they're failing him somehow. It's sweet.

As he watches this unfold, though, the shift in Sam from his own mental machinations to his body reaching for purely physical pleasure, and that one simple word, "please," repeated in a desperate tone that obviously moves Dean into a place he doesn't go often, possessive and controlling and determined to give Sam what he's asking for, Cas can feel his body stirring, his cock thickening. He brings his hips in so his wrist runs along it as he strokes Sam, the rhythm tied to Dean's hips where he is rhythmically fucking Sam, a little deeper on each stroke. 

He can feel the moment Sam's prostate is stimulated enough to provide pleasure; Dean must too, because his rhythm shifts into a smooth, short glide, in and out just enough to keep pressure on it. It's a technique Cas often uses on Dean because Dean is exceptionally responsive to it. Sam less so, but Sam is often in his head while he's getting fucked, so it is his mental images that push him over the edge, not Cas's technique. Cas smiles, impressed. Dean always has been able to learn quickly with his body.

"Please," Sam breathes, a low moan that makes Dean close his eyes in concentration. Cas bites Sam's nipple gently and tightens his hand on Sam's cock for Dean's next upstroke, and that pushes Sam just over the precipice he'd been hovering on. He comes, pulsing in Cas's hand, and that is not something that happens often. It is an odd yet pleasing sensation, and Cas only has to thrust his cock against his arm a couple of times to come himself. He hears Dean come only a moment after Sam does, probably unraveled by Sam's words, the same as Cas.

~~~

Things shift between them again. Cas had known that being with the Winchesters would not be easy and would take constant negotiation (he had actually been wrong about that part, and gladly), but he hadn't known that their individual couplets would be something that needed tending along with their threesome.

When the Winchesters don't get along – and this is, surprisingly, not very often, though when it happens it's thorny and lasts for a long time – they don't allow themselves to comfort themselves individually with him.

They still have sex all together – somewhat erratically, because it is often a weapon the brothers use against each other, and it is rare Cas feels the need to initiate sex – but they no longer have sex between two of the three. It's odd; he would have expected if Sam and Dean were not getting along, they would both come to him separately to avoid the sparring that goes on when they are together with him. But no, they are too honorable for that, probably assuming they'd be taking advantage of Cas in some way, or trying to get him to side with one of them.

Things are smooth sailing right now, as Dean would say, so there is an ease between them all that makes Cas happy. Dean and Sam occasionally go to bed early together, usually when Cas really wants to watch one of his romantic comedy movies, and when Cas finally makes it to bed and climbs in, it smells of sex and Winchesters. They pull him into the middle – usually the wet spot – and curl around him, petting his skin to see if he needs any physical attention. He is learning the responses of his body better, so slowly he is asking for more from them. Mostly he feels warm and safe and loved and wants nothing more than to go to sleep. When he does want something more, the brothers take him apart slowly, often so they have time to recover and are able to come again by the time Cas is ready.

Sam and Cas spend days bonding over books and eventually running. He doesn't run with Sam much after the first couple weeks – Sam's legs are too long and Cas doesn't like to hold him back – but they talk about it and Sam teaches him how to stretch and how to run sprints and how to build a training schedule. Dean rolls his eyes a lot. 

They often go out together and run the first half-mile as a warm-up, going their separate ways after. Sometimes Sam will be waiting for him as he comes back. There are several wooded areas that have nice shade and are good pit stops if Cas is tired. Sam is never tired, though, and when Cas jogs over to see if Sam is planning to run the last leg with him as a cooldown, Sam will tumble him into the grass and they will make out under the trees until one of them needs more, and then things end with a furtive blowjob or handjob. Cas isn't sure if it's the chance of being seen or just being out in the open air that arouses Sam, but he is always flushed and happy after their pastoral rendezvous.

Dean is the most sexual of all of them. Cas and Sam can both go long stretches without, preoccupied with a case or a new hobby or some new area of the bunker they've discovered. Dean needs regular sex not to be grumpy, though, and it takes a while to develop a rhythm between them that gives Dean what he needs but doesn't pressure Sam or Cas if they don't feel like it. 

At first, Dean comes to them in turns, Sam, then Cas, then both, then he starts again. They never turn him down, and eventually Dean changes tack, trying to figure out who would be the most receptive. Unfortunately this means not enough sex for Dean and he gets very cranky for a couple of months. 

It's Cas that finally realizes that it isn't the sex so much as the orders that Dean needs on a regular basis. It's his release from feeling like he always needs to be in control of the situation, particularly when they're on a case and he is worried for their safety. They always have desperate, order-driven sex after they finish a case.

Sam bosses Dean around a little, and while Cas has no doubt that Sam, with extensive research and his knowledge of Dean, could give Dean what he needs, it isn't something Sam particularly enjoys. 

Cas on the other hand, truly relishes watching Dean do what he tells him to. And he enjoys finding new ways to push Dean into the headspace he almost naturally enters whenever Cas is giving the orders. 

So it's Cas that sets the schedule now. He watches Dean carefully, shifting the amount of dominance to match Dean's needs. It's trickier trying to figure out to what level to involve Sam at. All of them enjoy Dean being ordered to take care of Sam, and sometimes Sam will cut loose a little too, his possessiveness about his brother driving Dean even deeper into his headspace. Unfortunately, it upsets Sam when he comes back around quickly but it takes Dean much longer to come out of it. Cas is teaching him, slowly, about the kind of release Dean needs and what that means for Dean in particular, but he knows it still worries Sam.

Sometimes Dean needs something darker, and Sam doesn't like to see Dean hurt, even if he asks for it, so those times Cas takes Dean off alone to take the edge off; usually using deprivation of some sort so that they can come back together with Sam after and Dean will only need the release of an orgasm.

Spending time with Dean outside cases and sex is harder. Cas is not mechanically inclined, so he's more of a hindrance than a help when he tries to assist Dean with maintaining the Impala or bringing the rest of the vehicles in the bunker into a usable state.

Dean also enjoys cooking and spends a fair amount of his free time learning about it. Cas is not good at cooking either, but he finds he can manage baking fairly easily, so he will sometimes work alongside Dean in the kitchen, assisting with the easy prep work and making dessert to go with their meals. He finds desserts that aren't too sweet to appease Sam, baked apples and dark chocolate and unsweetened whipped cream, and food becomes another way they all learn to enjoy each other.

It's not what Cas expected it to be, but it is more than what he'd hoped.

~~~


End file.
